"Yet he was the happiest man I ever saw," he said. "I used to feel like a convict in chains beside him. What does it all mean? Have we all got to suffer in proportion----" Again he broke off. "And Philip is coming here?" he asked. Then his voice got suddenly shriller and more staccato. "I won't see him!" he cried. "He has come to gloat over me. My God, is it not enough----" Madge laid her two hands on his chest, pressing him gently down again. "No, my darling," she said, "he will not come for that." "Well, then, to make love to you again," he cried. "He knows I am a cripple, a blind man, a blot on the earth!" Madge gave a great sigh. "Ah, why say things you don't mean?" she said. "And why make those dagger-thrusts at me, that cannot touch me? No, don't go on. Be silent, dear, or else beg my pardon, and his. I am sorry I should have to ask that, but you have said what is abominable! Oh, I don't want words. Just nod your head, my darling, and that will mean it is said. But for the sake of love, I must have that token." "Why does he come here, then?" he asked. Madge could not reply for the moment; she felt so sick at heart and helpless. She had fancied, poor thing, that she had catalogued, so to speak, all the troubles and difficulties which Evelyn had to face, which she had to face with him, but here was a fresh one, that attitude of suspicion which besets those who have a sense missing, and who imagine that even those whom they love and trust most may be taking advantage of their defect. Had he been able to see her face, the absolute frankness of her expression, the candour of her eyes would have made it impossible that the merest shadow of suspicion should have crossed his mind, that peevish cry "he has come to gloat over me or to make love to you," could not have crossed his lips, for there would have been no impulse in his mind which could determine the words. Yet they had been spoken by him, fretfully, irritably, all but causelessly. But cause there had been, and that cause was an instinct to ascribe the worst motive to the action of others instead of assuming the best. That was to be a foe to him more bitter and relentless than his sightlessness; even that which his bandages concealed would not draw so deeply on the healthful spring of kindly sanity which alone can carry a man smiling and indulgent through the frets of the world. But for the present Madge restored his balance. "Oh, Evelyn," she said, "don't disappoint me, dear, or make yourself bitter. You have been so brave and so splendid. Philip is coming here--or proposes to come because--he is sorry for you, because in spite of the injury we did him he still loves me--why not? But when you ask if he is coming to make love to me, then, dear, you let something which is not yourself speak for you. You utter counterfeit coin. It rings false. Besides, you have not heard his letter yet; I will read it you. And then you shall take back what you said, but did not mean to say."